Jill's Journal: I only peeked ... twice
Wishing and hoping was the easy part.
Waiting was the hard part.
And that’s how it was as a kid. Once we realized that Santa Claus actually doesn’t do the delivering as were led to believe in years gone by, as the days grew closer to Christmas, more and more presents began to appear under the tree.
My mom was a smart cookie. She knew not to put name tags on the gifts, which of course, kept us wishing and hoping. Temptation at that time of the year was simply just too great.
As a kid, there were only two Christmases that I may have “maneuvered” the wrapping paper to satisfy my age-appropriate curiosity.
The first time that I may have snuck a peek, my big wish that year was for a doll by the name of Velvet. I wanted that doll so bad, I’m pretty sure that I wore out the pages of the JC Penney Christmas catalog. In the eyes of this 8-year-old, she was the prettiest doll I had ever seen. But she was more than just a pretty face. She came with a head full of hair that any “young mother” was excited to brush, braid, put up in a pony tail or simply let her long locks flow freely. And if you desired a shorter length, well, all one had to do was push a button in her stomach and her hair would retreat inside her plastic-framed body. (Talk about a hair ball!)
That Christmas, I accidentally tore a corner of the wrapping paper, and much to my delight, I spied the purple box that Velvet came in. I remember feeling giddy knowing Velvet would be all mine in just a few days, but yet a slight hint of guilt knowing Velvet would be all mine in just a few days.
Years later, my Christmas wish list contained a Kodak Pocket Camera. That’s right, it was a camera that was just the right size to slide into a pocket. It was about the same size as today’s cell phone, although a tad bit thicker for the film cartridge and batteries.
I knew the size of the box to a tee. I’d been admiring the camera at the local drug store for months, and when I spied a box that size under the tree – this time – I didn’t accidently tear a corner of the wrapping paper. I just knew.
It may have been that Christmas that unknowingly brought to life the photographer in me. I took lots and lots of photos that Christmas and in the months and years that followed. That camera is long gone now, as well as a handful of others along the way, including an assortment of 35mm cameras that required film – and patience – for the photos to be developed and printed.
What I remember most about shooting pictures with a camera that required a film cartridge was the excitement of opening the envelope of the printed photos.
May your Christmas, dear readers, be filled with the excitement of what’s tucked inside your colorfully-wrapped gifts, minus a torn corner or two.
